


Sarows Song

by SingingtotheShadows



Category: Shades of Magic - V. E. Schwab
Genre: Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, and at like 3 am, and is the Sarows actually Lila, but i tried, does Stross even deserve a mention, if you can't tell I don't know how to tag, so there's that, we will never know, well it's not horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:01:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24939478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SingingtotheShadows/pseuds/SingingtotheShadows
Summary: How do you know when the Sarows is coming?(Is coming is coming is coming aboard?)
Kudos: 2





	Sarows Song

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't let go of Lenos' belief that Lila was, actually, the Sarows, so I decided to roll with it. And Kell's here because I love my angsty boy.  
> (Did I actually just type that? Wow, I did.)

The Sarows.

To wary and superstitious sailors, it was an omen of foul fortunes, the thought of which sent most praying to the forces above they would never meet. To children eager for horror and men deep in their bottles, it was a story best told quietly. And to souls aboard a ship haunted by the phantom, it was an omen of death. 

To Master Kell Maresh,  _ Antari  _ of Red London and guardian to Crown Prince Rhy, passenger aboard the  _ Night Spire,  _ the Sarows was a legend overheard on the first night, when the first mate had entertained the royal guard with sea stories and shanties. Even as he scoffed at the fear the myth inspired, he couldn’t deny the chill that crawled down his spine at the eerie, haunting melody spilling forth from the sailor’s mouth. Despite the ominous coil in his stomach that grew tighter as the days stretched to weeks on open water, he clung to the notion that the Sarows was a myth, nothing more.

Oh, how wrong he was.

At night, the  _ Spire  _ was alight with a fearful, pulsing energy that beckoned to the unnatural, unwelcome things.

Kell often found himself awake during those darkest hours before dawn, steadying himself against the constant swaying he would never get used to. Compared to his cramped, humid quarters belowdecks, where he would often hear things from the captain’s quarters he wished would remain unheard, above deck was still, silent, and shadowy, a crisp breeze toying with his coat and lanternlight sending dim pools of gold spilling across the lacquered wood. 

He stood at the helm, a simple palm of fire lighting the area, brow furrowed. There was supposed to be someone on watch, but Kell hadn’t seen them on their rounds yet. In fact, he hadn’t seen a single flicker of movement, not even from the sails, though the wind whistled in his ears. 

The melody clung to his mind like cobwebs, the whispered words and warning tone slithering through him.  _ In your ears in your head in your blood in your bones. . . _

He shivered, pulling his coat closer, tucking his free hand into the pocket of the royal red fabric and fingering the ornamental dagger there. The hair on the back of his neck stood straight, invisible eyes burning into the back of his head. He resisted the urge to turn around, stifling his magic, fighting against the tension in his shoulders. Perhaps it was merely the sailor on watch. . .

_ How do you know when the Sarows is coming?  _

_ (Is coming is coming is coming is coming aboard?) _

He shook away the song coiling around his mind. The Sarows was a myth, nothing more, only real enough to spook him and draw fear from hardened sailors. 

_ When the wind dies away but still sings in your ears, _

_ (In your ears in your head in your blood in your bones.) _

The chant drifted along the nonexistent breeze, a whisper across still waters, eerie enough to send chills spider-walking along his spine and a shiver through his shoulders. His neck prickled again, and the fire in his palm sputtered with his wariness.

_ ‘When the current goes still but the ship, it drifts along, _

_ (Drifts on drifts away drifts alone.)’ _

Kell froze. It wasn’t merely in his head, the song. It was low, rich, in an accent he didn’t know but that tugged on the edge of his mind. And the voice - was female. 

_ “When the moon and the stars all hide from the dark, _

_ (For the dark is not empty at all at all.)” _

The echoed words drew out something deep-seated and dark, an oily presence that curled around his bones and climbed in his throat and kicked his heart into a staccato beat. Fear. 

_ “How do you know when the Sarows is coming? _

_ (Is coming is coming is coming aboard?)” _

He turned then, trying to will away the shaking in his arms, peering into the dark, searching for the woman with the voice of a phantom. 

His palm fire caught on a gleaming eye to his left, close enough to send his legs quaking yet far enough for the figure to be hidden in shadow. As he took a single, trembling step closer, his flames revealed a crouched body on the railing of the ship, shrouded in black with horns curling away from its brow and talons digging into the wood. Fear soured to terror - something Kell had gone a long, long while without feeling. 

“ _ Why you don’t and you don’t and you won’t see it coming, _

_ (You won’t see it coming at all.)” _

The creature bared its fangs in a razor smile, and Kell realized that the Sarows wasn’t merely a nightmarish legend, after all.


End file.
